When Francois Pienaar became hopelessly addicted to drugs during his gap year abroad, his mother was prepared to walk through fire to save her son, but even that wasn’t enough . . .
By Rita van den Heever

In March last year, when Francois (19) bade his family farewell at Johannesburg’s OR Tambo Airport, he was alive and well, with all the dreams of a young man heading abroad for a gap year.

His destination: the Netherlands, where he was planning to work as an au pair. Just five months later he returned, dazed, lost in a personal hell and fighting for his life.

But sitting next to him on the plane, her arms around his shoulders, was his mother, Lize. She was prepared to do whatever it would take to save her son from drug addiction.

17 November 2008: The future looks rosy
Artist Lize Kruger and her son, Francois, are in their beautiful Parktown North home, surrounded by the large, leafy trees that shade one of Johannesburg’s older suburbs.

Paintings, some of them by Lize, adorn the walls and lovely artwork fills the room. The house feels calm and safe. And the bond between mother and son is obvious.

Lize has always been close to her three children and after everything Francois has been through, mother and son have grown even closer. Still, this interview is the first time in months they’ve been able to sit down and openly discuss their recent experiences.

The last time they shared their thoughts and fears was in July, when Lize visited her son in Soesterberg, a small village where he was working as an au pair. His employers were on holiday, so Francois and his mom were free to explore the Netherlands together. They trawled art galleries, laughed and chatted about the meaning of life and Francois’ future.

This holiday together helped to make up for Francois’ absence at her wedding in July when Lize married Fanie, her partner of seven years. “It was simply too expensive for Francois to fly home for just a few days,” Lize says.

But even then she was beginning to feel the first stirrings of concern. On one occasion her clever, rational son had sounded strange and incoherent on the phone. “And then there was the time none of us could get hold of him,” she says.

“I was worried, so I often sent him information on dagga abuse knowing he stubbornly believed dagga was harmless. According to him it wasn’t a ‘hard core’ drug.”

Lize was all too aware of the dangers of hard drugs. She’d already been down the long road of drug addiction with her eldest daughter, Ronelle (27).

“Ronelle, who is brilliant and creative, got hooked on cocaine and alcohol. She was treated at a Pretoria rehab centre but she emerged smarter about drugs – in the negative sense – than when she went in.”

Eventually rehab at The Gap in Ferndale proved successful. The family had been deeply affected by Ronelle’s battle – so much so it gave Lize a false sense of peace about Francois. He had supported his sister throughout her rehabilitation and was well informed about the effects of drugs – so why, Lize reasoned, would he expose himself to the same risks?

From dagga to ’shrooms
Before he went abroad the signs of her son’s dagga-smoking were there but his explanations made sense: “The papers were to roll his own smokes because cigarettes were too expensive. His eyes were red because he’d got to bed late . . . There was always a valid excuse.”

But the niggling worry persisted. The troublesome feeling accompanied her to Holland on 21 July. By this time she knew her son used marijuana (dagga) occasionally but she accepted he had it under control.

In the Netherlands marijuana is available in certain “coffee shops” and in this context of social acceptance Francois insisted Lize read websites extolling the drug’s virtues.

“Soon after I arrived we went to Amsterdam. I told him I wanted to smoke a joint with him. ‘I want to know what you experience,’ I told him.” They headed for a coffee shop where Lize smoked her first ever dagga cigarette.

“It was an extremely unpleasant experience,” she says. “I felt like someone with Alzheimer’s – or what I imagine that would feel like. I couldn’t think straight. I had the impression the drug was incredibly strong. But I could finally make an informed judgment about dagga and Francois promised he would stop using it – after all, he was in control.”

Lize is correct in saying the drug interfered with her brain. One of dagga’s trademarks is its harmful effects on the brain, which take six to 12 months to wear off. And the more marijuana one uses, the more damage it causes.

“In spite of my uneasiness Francois and I spent two special weeks together and made plans for when he would return to South Africa,” Lize says. “He wanted to study marketing at Northwest University in Potchefstroom and I bought him a laptop for his future studies.”

On 3 August Lize returned home feeling relatively relieved. “Yes, I knew Francois was using dagga but I was convinced he had it under control. He was happy over there. He even jokingly tried to convince me that we should all move to the Netherlands.”

But Lize’s world was about to be shattered. The moment she left, Francois binged on dagga and magic mushrooms (or ’shrooms), which, like LSD, cause hallucinations. He sent his father an SMS: “I’m a drug addict and I’m sorry.”

“I called Francois but he made no sense at all,” his mom continues. “He usually has a sharp mind but his thoughts were fragmented. He talked about dreams and visions and said incredibly naive things.”

Lize felt as though someone had kicked her in the gut and she realised she needed to get to her son urgently. Two days after leaving the Netherlands she threw a toothbrush and clean underwear into a backpack and boarded a plane back to Europe.

Spinning out of control
The next three days were almost unimaginable. Francois’ life was unravelling – not only was the dagga stronger than the type he was familiar with in South Africa, he’d also started using magic mushrooms, freely available in the Netherlands but no longer legal.

Regular users might take these hallucinogenic “ ‘shrooms” about four times a year, but Francois used the drug six times in five weeks! Once again he believed the substance was natural and harmless.

What he also didn’t know was that he’s the kind of person who is unusually susceptible to drugs. So the combination of dagga and ’shrooms left him psychotic. He became mentally ill and his life was in grave danger.

Lize felt as though she was moving in a vacuum. She spent an hour on public transport from Schiphol airport to her son’s flat. But when she got there, Francois wasn’t home. She sat on the stairs and waited, getting soaked by the rain. Eventually Lize climbed through a window.

The flat was in chaos. Only a few days before she had left it neat and tidy and had filled the fridge with food. What she found was a mess. And Francois was gone.

When he finally arrived he was aggressive. Suddenly Lize was his greatest enemy. He asked if she was able to get angry and she shot back: “You’ve yet to see me angry. Why are you asking?”

Francois wasn’t himself. Everything about him was radically different from the son she’d left behind three days earlier.

After a quick look around the flat, Lize knew his laptop was missing. “My first thought was he’d traded it for dagga.”

Then she made a decision. “You’re coming back to South Africa with me. No arguments.” But first he had to retrieve the laptop, which he said he’d given to a friend. “Go and get it,” Lize instructed him. Francois left with friends and Lize began to prepare for their departure.

“I washed every scrap of clothing and checked the sole of every shoe. We would have to go through customs and I wanted to be sure there weren’t any drugs hidden away. I cleaned the flat and found a stash of dagga and smoking paraphernalia. I buried it all in the garden.

“Then his friends came back – without Francois or his laptop. He’d just disappeared.” Francois’ cellphone was off and she had no way of reaching him. She even called the police, for whom she has nothing but praise.

“They were supportive and they treated me – and later Francois – wonderfully. Early on the morning of 8 August they called from Kampen to say they’d found him.”

When Lize arrived in Kampen a manic Francois was waiting. “He was hysterical, crying and laughing, confused and aggressive. He spoke about suicide so often I took his belt away and put it in my handbag. He stormed into a shop and grabbed a beer, then charged across the street and jumped onto a train.”

By then Lize herself was in a state. “I hadn’t eaten and the last time I’d slept was days before. But I realised I had to stay in control.” She made all the arrangements for their return.

“The night before we left was a nightmare. He unpacked everything, looking for dagga of course. He’d used the money I’d given him for food and travel during my last visit to buy a pair of shoes that cost R5 000. Every five minutes he wanted to leave them in the street ‘for someone who might need them’.”

Last dance
Francois listens attentively as his mother speaks. He’s an attractive young man; seemingly confident and quick to smile. He takes over from Lize, telling the story without holding back.

“I didn’t just use dagga,” he says. “Mentally, I also became part of the dagga culture. I absolutely believed in the love I was radiating and how I would help to save the world.”

Books such as those by spiritual guru Eckhart Tolle, especially A New Earth, and other inspirational philosophies were his guidelines. Tolle writes that the way to spiritual evolution is through surrendering self-righteousness, selfish demands and fears.

“Unfortunately religious and spiritual reading materials are interpreted completely incorrectly by people in Francois’ condition,” Lize says.

“At times I saw myself as the reincarnation of Christ,” Francois explains. “I gave my laptop to someone who seemed more like Jesus than me. I also gave away my watch, wallet and sunglasses. When my mother insisted I get the computer back, I went to Amersfoort to fetch it. I didn’t find it – but I was convinced I’d found the Holy Grail instead! I rested in a coffee shop for a while and someone gave me a free joint. I ‘knew’ I was going to save the world and all those people were streaming in to see me. After another free joint I headed for the station.”

There were more train trips, and a bus journey during which he gave the driver his cellphone.

“There were revelations . . . After walking for hours I fell asleep on a yacht in Kampen. I believed I’d left ‘signs’ everywhere but I also ‘knew’ the Dutch queen wanted me dead. There were secret codes for her henchmen on TV, on trucks – everywhere. Everything had a meaning. I was led by Robbie Robertson’s song, Shine Your Light:
The cry of the city like a siren’s Song
Wailing over the rooftops the whole night long
But now it’s like living on borrowed time
Out on the rim, over the line
Always tempting fate like a game of chance
Never wanna stick around to the very last dance . . .

Francois was very close to his last dance.

Flight from Hell
Their journey back to South Africa was a terrifying experience both mother and son would prefer to forget.

Lize worried that the airline wouldn’t allow Francois on a plane in his psychotic condition. He stormed into airport shops and raged at her for refusing to buy him things. He unpacked all their hand luggage in the middle of walkways or on escalators to search for dagga.

He decided he wanted to go to The Hague and Australia and threatened to blow up the plane and the airport – not the kind of thing airport staff take lightly.

At Schiphol airport security staff helped him to a medical centre where he was given a tranquiliser. By now Lize was a wreck.

“We hadn’t had much sleep the night before and we’d got up early to get to the airport. All I could persuade Francois to eat that morning was a handful of dry Post Toasties. There was no milk. He had a mountain of luggage and I struggled with it alone because he wasn’t willing – or able – to help.”

The tranquiliser had worn off by the time they reached Heathrow. Francois was completely unreasonable and refused to listen. Lize could communicate with him only through other people because at least with strangers he was polite for a few minutes.

She persuaded the airport staff to let him sit in their offices: small spaces seemed to calm him slightly. She bought food that the staff gave to him – his paranoid delusions led him to believe his mother was poisoning him. Francois behaved like a caged lion on the flight from London to Johannesburg. Sympathetic people helped Lize.

“A wonderful cabin attendant organised a row at the back of the plane for us, and she helped to handle Francois. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life.”

At OR Tambo they searched Francois and Lize three times. “The dogs circled us. Francois looked like he might lose control. I was worried I’d missed some drugs somewhere but eventually we were allowed through.”

Picking up the pieces
Once back in South Africa, Francois went to live with his father. He seemed relaxed and in control. He fooled everyone. He was admitted to The Gap and referred to the Sandton Clinic so his psychosis (the mental disturbances caused by the drugs) could be treated.

After a week he was sent back to The Gap, where, due to circumstances beyond Lize’s control, he spent just seven days.

But mentally he was far from stable. His thought patterns were fragmented and he was still convinced he was being followed. After he was treated by someone who was completely unqualified, Lize got Francois to a psychiatrist.

She described the condition of his brain as “a hailstorm in a vineyard, leaves everywhere”. Only psychiatric medication would ensure that the neurotransmitters in his brain would recover.

Francois was eventually allowed to return home. There were strict conditions: these included that Lize would have to monitor him once or twice a week for dagga and that he had to know he was being constantly watched. He also had to take daily medication, including an anti-psychotic.

After three weeks Francois was responding so well to the medication that his psychiatrist was positive no permanent damage would remain after the six-month course of treatment.

Unfortunately, it was at this critical time that Francois was weaned off the medication with the help of a pharmacist (and not his own psychiatrist), despite his extremely fragile mental state.

“It’s tragic that there were people who thought there was nothing wrong with him and he clung to that illusion,” Lize says.

“I was raging with frustration at Francois’ inability to see ahead. I knew he was in danger but I was fighting a losing battle.”

Mother and son tackled the recovery one day at a time. They knew nothing could be taken for granted owing to his fragile state. Lize armed herself with test kits and used them to monitor Francois daily for drug use. He knew he would never ever be able to use dagga or drink alcohol again. Even so, his eyes were brighter and he was making plans to start studying.

“I’ve always had a good relationship with my children,” Lize says. “But I know I’m Francois’ mother and not his best pal. I had to do what was right for him no matter how hard it was. It’s sad I didn’t get the support I’d hoped for.

“I wanted him back: the child with the laughing eyes, philosophical attitude, passionate nature and desire for adventure. I was obsessed with getting Francois back to the way he was.”

While talking to Lize and Francois I become aware of the rare bond between mother and son. They’re tender with each other and share a belief that everything will come right . . . but in unguarded moments fear of what the future might hold creeps into a gesture or voice.

It seems this conversation has been part of their healing process. It’s the first time, Lize says later, that they’ve spoken so openly in each other’s presence. Without avoiding the painful facts, they’ve shared their experiences with YOU Pulse in the hope that Francois’ story will help just one person.

They want to show young people that they’re not untouchable or immortal. That dagga is not harmless. That this can happen to anyone. If this, Lize repeats almost like a mantra, can save just one young person from addiction . . .

Francois’ battle is far from over but he knows he’s not alone. The gentle young man with the sensitive soul and the strong woman fighting for her son are braving a mighty maelstrom together.

And yes, they say hopefully, they believe Francois will make a complete recovery. “Cautiously optimistic, that’s what we are,” Lize says.

They look at each other and nod. And in that moment, fear is far away.

After this interview and the accompanying photo shoot, Lize’s worst fears were realised. Francois lapsed into a deep depression and refused medication or treatment.

“He became more and more withdrawn and lost touch with everything around him,” she says. This is a typical reaction when medication is stopped prematurely and too quickly.

Lize tried in vain to get through to her son and he tried to comfort her with the words: “Just as people can’t understand the universe or the concept of eternity, so you can’t understand how I feel right now.”

30 November 2008: Worse than Death
Despite all Lize’s efforts, the unthinkable happened. On the night of 30 November 2008 Francois took his life.

In his suicide letter he wrote:
To my family
I know this is the most selfish thing anyone can do but I am in hell . . . please try to understand. I love you so much. I just can’t go on like this . . .
There are things that are worse than death . . .
I truly love you all.

At the time of going to press Lize agreed that her son’s story, completed when they still shared hope for his future, should be published. Maybe, just maybe, Francois can still save a life.

What I know now
Lize has the following advice for parents who are helping their children fight drug addiction:

• Trust your instincts.
If you suspect your child is using drugs, don’t let sweet talk and clever explanations fool you. Get to the core of the problem.

• Be the parent and stay in control.
It doesn’t matter if your child blames you and rages at you. This isn’t a popularity contest. If you have to intervene, do so and don’t let anyone or anything stop you. Parents who present a united front may be a child’s only chance of salvation.

• Don’t be naive.
Be on your guard if your child keeps asking for R300 – for petrol, a meal, anything. That’s the price of a gram of cocaine. (This is how Lize unknowingly funded her daughter’s addiction.)

• Know the danger zones.
During a gap year young people suddenly find themselves with incredible freedom, as well as access to money, friends and opportunities for dangerous games with alcohol and drugs. They’re young and overconfident and yet extremely vulnerable. Think carefully: is your child ready for this?

• Don’t be blind.
Dagga is available on every corner. Everyone thinks it’s harmless. But every child is a potential addict and every person a possible dealer, from your gardener to the friend your child has known since nursery school.

• Expect the worst.
Parents attending drug support groups often discover for the first time that up to 90 per cent of the kids in their neighbourhood have experimented with drugs.

• Try to kep your children from experimenting.
Some people have no resistance and can, like Francois, do so much neurological damage to themselves in a period of months that strong and sustained medication is their only hope of recovery. Sustained treatment and antidepressants might have saved Francois’ life. You don’t know until it’s too late.

• Get the right treatment.
If your child develops a psychosis, psychiatric treatment and psychological therapy are of the utmost importance. There’s no time to waste with incompetent and unqualified people posing as experts.

• Avoid triger to pics.
Don’t discuss religious or spiritual issues with someone in the throws of a psychotic episode. They already believe they have extraordinary powers and such conversations just strengthen this conviction.

Drug facts
Can the brain recover from the damage caused by drugs? Are some people more susceptible to drugrelated mental illness? What causes someone to believe he’s Christ? And what’s the ‘magic’ in certain kinds of mushrooms?
Dr Lize Weich, lecturer in substance disorders at Stellenbosch University’s psychiatry department, provides some answers
By the Health24 team

Dagga-related brain damage
Dagga has various effects on the brain. It can destroy the cells that control your shortterm memory, interfere with your ability to concentrate and simply make you stupid. It can also lead to more serious problems, such as hallucinations or a persecution complex.
The more often you smoke and the stronger the substance you use, the greater the damage to your brain. Scientists are not sure exactly how long it takes for the brain to recover from the damage caused by dagga – it could be weeks or years.
The most commonly used dagga today is 10 times stronger than that used in the ’60s and, contrary to popular opinion of that time, dagga is definitely physically addictive.
If the plant grew in a humid environment, the drug is more concentrated, hence the popularity of so-called Durban Poison and Malawi Gold.

Magic mushrooms
Manufactured from dried Psilocybe mushrooms, magic mushrooms are commonly used as a psychedelic at parties. They are particularly popular in Europe, where some users grow and dry the cubensis or Thai species themselves.
Soon after consumption you won’t have a clue where you are. The drug causes confusion in the brain: what you see and hear have no bearing on reality.
Users soon develop a resistance to the drug and its psychedelic sound and colour hallucinations and often have to avoid it for three or four days before using it again. Nasty side effects of magic mushrooms are the nightmare flashbacks of the hallucinations. These flashbacks can persist long after stopping the drug.

The hallucinations and delusions of drug psychosis
Some drugs (like dagga), psychedelic substances (like magic mushrooms, LSD and tik) and amphetamine stimulants (speed) can make you psychotic. This means you lose touch with reality and live in your own delusional world.
The bigger the dose and the longer you take the drug, the greater the chance you’ll develop a mental disturbance. It’s thought the drugs affect the brain by interfering with dopamine transmitters but other neurotransmitters could also be affected.
Drug-induced mental disturbances can be short-lived (for example, the voices you hear when you’re on tik or the persecution complex you develop when high on dagga) and usually disappear within hours. In some people, however, psychotic effects and behaviour persist for weeks.
Psychiatrists currently believe if a mental disturbance doesn’t clear up within a month after stopping the drug, you probably had a pre-existing psychosis. Researchers are still uncertain how long it should take for a drug-induced psychosis to cease, whether or not it can be cured in all cases and to what degree it causes lasting brain damage.

People who are predisposed to drug psychosis
A psychosis is a mental condition in which you live in your own delusional world and some people have a genetic predisposition to developing psychoses if they use drugs.
High-risk sufferers include young people, people who don’t get enough sleep, those with close relatives who suffer from schizophrenia or other psychoses, and people who’ve had previous psychotic episodes.
In some people, using drugs causes serious, long-term mental disturbances. Once they’ve experienced a drug-induced psychosis, a much lower dose of the same drug has the same effect.

Understanding Francois’ behaviour
Francois’ behaviour in Holland and on his journey home was that of someone who’d lost touch with reality. He heard voices and had delusions.
Such behaviour appears psychotic and can be brought on by drug use or possibly as a result of an underlying bipolar disorder. His grandiose thoughts, racing mind, energy and irritability could also have been manic.
It seems Francois later lapsed into a postpsychotic depression. Those who experience similar trauma can recover – with long-term psychiatric help and correctly prescribed medication taken religiously.

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